Role Reversal
by lizaD
Summary: A long time ago, a business professor told Evan that he had the two ingredients for success: an equal balance of ignorance and confidence. He watched for days now as Hank gained more of one and lost more of the other. The shift scared the hell out of Evan.
1. Chapter 1

Role Reversal

**Chapter 1**

Hank made the appointment. The decision was two weeks in the making. He knew that he should have listened to that bothersome annoying voice in his head much sooner. The doctor knew how stupid he had been the moment he reached the top of the garden's imported Italian marble staircase, and it felt like his lungs were about to explode. As he tried to catch a deep breath, the doctor wondered how long it would take Evan to notice that he was actually talking to the surrounding air. Doubled over and thoroughly concentrated on trying to stop his huffing and puffing, Hank was dismayed to see that the tips of his brother's shoes now occupied a space in his line of vision.

Evan matched the older man's bent over posture, stuck his face inches from his brother's and commented, "You know if you hadn't been so pig-headed and called Dr. Morris last week, you'd probably feel better by now." He had totally disagreed with his brother's reasoning that Hank could remain objective and treat his own health issue. The fact that his older sibling's hacking cough had not improved significantly, had the two men at odds for a good part of the week.

Hank carefully straightened his compact frame. He noted the troubled look on his brother's face and tried to make light of the situation. "This is just something that I ate. It didn't agree with me." The younger man's expression went from troubled to dubious. Evan, never-one-to-hold back-his-true-feelings, managed without saying a word to send a message that let Hank know that he was being a total ass.

Even before the last word left his lips, Hank knew that his newest excuse sounded not only lame but also unbelievable. Evan, a self-taught culinary wizard, he realized too late, would no doubt see right through his latest excuse. Especially seeing how his hungry sibling had devoured the very same breakfast offerings that Hank had creatively picked over. The arched eyebrow now featured on Evan's face indicated what Hank already knew: he totally sucked at cover-ups.

"So you're saying what exactly?" the disbelieving younger brother inquired. "That you think the five-star food that you moved from one side of your plate to the other is what caused you to double-over. Are you seriously trying to convince me that you have food poisoning, Henry?" Evan really wanted to take a nice little jab at Hank's head. He thought maybe if he bopped his pig-headed brother the man would finally get the message that he was not playing around anymore. Evan had put up with two week's worth of Hank's lame excuses and his outright refusal to get a second opinion. The frustrated man decided to call the doctor's bluff. "I guess I should go back and tell Boris that he needs to look into his hand-picked premier personal chief's preparation techniques. I mean we should warn him that the littlest Kuester von Caseras Jergens- Ratenicz…or is it Jergens-Ratencz Casera?" Evan briefly wondered. He then shook his head and returned to the topic at hand, "That his heir apparent might be at risk. Right?"

Hank had overplayed his hand. He knew that Evan knew it too.

The younger man continued, "I mean we definitely have a legal responsibility as a medical service provider to make sure that little Kaserat or Jeratcas doesn't ingest spoiled food. So seeing how you're not feeling well, I'll bite the bullet and go tell the Big Guy." Evan moved past his brother.

"No. Wait." Hank reached out and grabbed a clump of material from the back of his brother's linen shirt.

"Do you want to tell him?" Evan pulled the now crumpled material of his shirt out of his brother's grasp. The lanky man stepped off the step, crossed his arms, and waited for an answer.

"I made the damn appointment," the defeated doctor stated. "Let's go." He motioned for the younger man to join him as he headed back toward the guesthouse.

"Finally!" Evan happily exclaimed.

As he watched Hank head toward the stone archway, a relieved Evan performed a quick celebratory fist pump. The fact that his brother had put himself on a mild (in Evan's opinion) antibiotic and yet still had a wicked sounding cough had Evan living under a cloud of apprehension. He hoped (what with all his acquired mishmash of semi-medical knowledge) that his workaholic brother had come down with nothing more than some nasty form of pneumonia.

Hank slowed his pace when he started to feel that all too familiar tightness in his chest. He could no longer talk himself into believing that what bothered him was nothing more than a persistent cough that he could tame it with antibiotics.

Evan quickly caught up with his unusually slow moving sibling. "Okay, I know that you're pissed off at me-" the dark look he received confirmed this point "-but let's be honest, if I went around hacking up a lung for more than a few days, you would have jumped all over me to get it resolved." Evan received a snorted "whatever" from the piqued physician shortly after. He tried to smooth the waters of discontent with what he thought was some sound reasoning. "Look it all works out in your favor." He ignored his brother's death stare. "Schedule wise you lucked out this week. The Divs is already scheduled for coverage tomorrow." Evan nudged his brother's shoulder, "Come on, look on the bright side, now you can catch up on all your paperwork while you wait to see Dr. Morris."

"I'll do it when I get home," the unhappy doctor grossed. He was not about to give his brother the satisfaction of thinking that everything was going to run smoothly without his input.

Evan persisted.

"It's a win-win situation. Divya has a good reason why she won't be able to meet her sister for breakfast, brunch, or dinner and..."

"Admit it, Ev. Divya strong-armed you again."

"Okay. Fine. She insisted that I put her down for all day coverage. Happy?" a nonplused Evan replied. "You know as well as I do that behind that Mary Poppin's persona beats the heart of a trained assassin." This time his remark earned him a slip of a smile from his testy brother. Motivated, Evan tried for an all out laugh. "Hey," the younger man said with a self-depreciating look, "I'm man enough to admit that the woman scares the beejeezus out of me."

Hank fought valiantly not to reward his brother with the sound of laughter but soon lost the battle. Evan's face now sported an all-encompassing smile. Hank knew his moment of weakness was to Evan like winning the lottery.

"You know luck was definitely on our side when that whole arranged marriage thing fell through." Hank did not find his younger sibling's latest off-the-cuff comment humorous. "What?" an innocent looking Evan replied. "I'm just stating the obvious."

"Of course you are. I wouldn't expect anything less," Hank responded only half-joking.

The accountant tried his best to look offended and failed miserably. In a long-held custom, anytime one of Evan's remarks caused his brother the slightest bit of discomfort, he marked the occasion with a sly smirk. Despite his brother's crankiness (or maybe because of it) today was no exception.

"I see Dr. Morris at eight," Hank remarked as he jiggled his key in the lock of the guesthouse front door. The doctor had tried every way he could to avoid getting a second opinion from another physician. However, he grudgingly had to admit that after this morning's episode that maybe Evan was right (especially after he had almost coughed up a lung) that "it's time for an outside opinion."

"Excellent." A victorious Evan patted the older man's shoulder as he walked into the house.

"Lucky me," Hank grumbled as he followed the younger man into the house. He put a fist to the center of his chest and tried to rub away the tight feeling.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Royal Pains (and all its characters) is the sole property of USA Network. I just borrow them now and again.

**Chapter 2 **

An anxious Evan had expected his brother to return from the doctor's office in two hours, maybe three hours tops. It was now going on hour five and Hank had ignored every one of his "hey what gives" text messages. The longer his cell phone stayed silent, the more Evan's imagination yearned to join forces with his frayed nerves.

He reached for his phone and pulled up Paige's name. Evan's long finger was about to land on the send button, when he remembered today was the day Paige took her bridesmaids to the Blackstone for what she had happily described as a day of complete body and soul pampering. Then his bride-to-be and her boarding school best buds were off to enjoy a girl's night out rolling the dice in Atlantic City. Paige, he trusted whole-heartedly. The boarding school buds – not so much: which is why Paige made him promise not to call unless he was hurt or the guesthouse was on fire. He figured that not hearing from his brother for five hours did not constitute an emergency (at least not in Paige's way of thinking) and put his phone away.

Bummed out, Evan flopped down on the couch and tried to work up some interest in the goofy antics of The Three Stooges. However, not even the classic doings of Larry, Moe, and Curly could prevent a general feeling of unease from wrapping itself around him like some twisted too snug blanket. The anxious man briefly entertained the thought of calling his father but then remembered their awkward last phone conversation and nixed that idea.

10101010101010

Evan, who as child fell hook, line and sinker for all those Disney happy endings, was extremely proud of his old man when Eddie decided to stay in Florida in order to work things out with his overly opinionated father, Ted. However, after a flurry of texts it started to seem to Evan that his father had an ulterior motive for staying put in the sunshine state.

Hoping to put his nagging feelings to rest, Evan called Eddie. After the usual "how's Hank and how are you" stuff was covered, Evan tried to feel his father out. The call soon turned awkward and uncomfortable. Eddie, a supreme smooth-talker, found that he could not smooth talk a fellow smooth talker and wound up neither confirming nor denying Evan's suspicions. Inside his father's circle of words, Evan found several reasons to believe that Eddie had not stayed in Florida just to bond (as he first believed - damn those Disney movies) but stayed instead to try and persuade Ted to invest heavily in getting his solar energy company up and running: this time around as a legitimate business venture.

Evan found himself in an uncomfortably tight spot. A year ago, he would have overlooked anything Eddie did in order to keep his father's affections. That was then. This was now. Evan liked the cantankerous Ted Roth not because the elderly man was loaded (talk about major emotional growth), but because his grandfather actually listened when he spoke. The number-loving accountant finally found someone who actually thought his ideas were interesting. The last thing Evan wanted to do was lose his connection to Ted.

Evan (after much nail biting and TUMS ingesting) spoke to his grandfather (via Skype) and at first, they discussed such topics as fine clothing, fat cigars, slick thoroughbreds, and the highly combustible stock market. When the conversation lulled, the accountant made his move. Evan brought up how he believed that now was not the optimum time to invest heavily into any type of start up business: especially one without a proven track record. After presenting his unsolicited investment advice, Evan noticed that one of Ted's fuzzy eyebrows shot up. Unfamiliar with his grandfather's mannerisms and therefore unsure if his arched caterpillar-like eyebrow signaled surprise or anger, Evan started to panic. To cover what Evan believed to be a major blunder the panicked man went off on a convoluted spiel that would eventually intertwine the continued recessive nature of today's economy with the 2.43 billion dollar Bank of America settlement and Pamela Anderson's early exit from Dancing with the Stars (Paige's favorite show).

When Evan merged the subjects of Pamela Anderson and gravity together, the elderly man raised one of his thick hands to his lips and demonstrated how he wanted Evan to "zip it." Evan instantly went silent. He took a cautious glance at the image on his laptop and was surprised to find Ted smiling broadly. Tough talking Ted Roth pronounced his grandson a "good egg." Touched by the unexpected show of affection, Evan beamed.

Seconds later Evan watched the smile on his grandfather's face start to take a downward path and instinctively knew that Ted was thinking about Eddie. Evan felt compelled to make the older man laugh. It was his thing. He hated to see anyone sad or upset. So off the top-of-his head and without an iota of forethought Evan blurted out that maybe the Mayan calendar was correct and, surely, that meant that anyone with a bucket list might want to consider shortening it. In hindsight, Evan realized that talking bucket lists with an 84-year-old was probably not one of his brighter ideas (he could just picture the head shake Hank would have awarded his gaff) but that was neither here nor there because the remark had Ted howling with laughter.

Evan never told an ailing Hank about his odd Eddie encounter. He did not see the point of causing his brother any further worry.

101010101010

The last conscious thing Evan remembered hearing was the sound of one of Curley's "Yuk yuks" in surround sound. He woke to the sound of the cable box clicking off. As he struggled to get his bearings, Evan caught a glimpse of his brother as Hank silently passed by the sofa and made his way toward the staircase. Evan bolted upright so quickly that his cell phone slide off his chest and landed with a clatter on the hardwood floor.

"Hey, you're back!" a now wide-awake Evan pointed out to the retreating figure.

"I got back about twenty minutes ago. I tried waking you but you were dead to the world." Hank put a sneaker-covered foot on the first step of the staircase.

"Whoa. Wait," Evan exclaimed loudly. He squirmed into an upright position on the sofa. "How did you make out? What took you so long? Exactly what did Dr. Morris think is…?" He managed to get out all these questions while bent over and fishing his phone off the floor.

"Evan!" Hank was not in the mood for a game of twenty questions.

As usual, Evan failed to heed his sibling's warning. He shot off the sofa and continued his cross-examination. "You know I left like a dozen messages" -actually it was more like five but Evan liked to over dramatize- "and you never called me back. What was the hold up? Did he order a chest X-ray?" Evan moved quickly in an attempt to keep up with his fleeing sibling.

Extremely uncomfortable under any kind of intense scrutiny, Hank went all-defensive and pushed back - verbally. "Enough." A surprised Evan stopped in mid-stride. The move left the doctor feeling like a complete jerk but there was only so much that Hank could take when Evan flew into hyperactive mode. The older man silently counted to ten, reigned in his own scattered emotions, and in a much calmer tone addressed his upset looking sibling. "I'm going to grab a quick shower and then you and I will sit down and talk."

"No!" Evan angrily replied. He was tried of his brother's "let's discuss it later" routine. The concerned man moved up a step. "Tell me now, Henry, what's going on?"

Evan matched his older sibling's unhappy glare.

As much as Hank hated intense scrutiny, he hated getting pushed into a corner by Evan even more. The idea of not addressing his pesky sibling in a harsh tone soon evaporated. "Why are you being so …" The perturbed man searched for a correct "Evanism".

"Difficult?" Evan coolly volunteered. The younger man knew exactly what his intense looking brother's next move would be. Picking a fight was just another one of Hank's delay tactics.

A tired, drained, and now thoroughly irritated Hank Lawson shot back, "Let me finish my own damn sentence."

Evan refused to give his brother the satisfaction of an emotional reaction. He simply shrugged, leaned against the wall and waited.

"Pushy!" Hank pointed at his oddly calm sibling.

"Pushy?" Evan mulled over the idea. "Nope." He decided the description did not fit. "You know just because I want…"

"What you want. When you want," Hank fired another round. He had found a target for his frustration. "Trust me. It's a perfect fit."

An exasperated Evan dropped his ignore and extinguish stance and exclaimed, "You're the one who choose not to return any of my texts. That makes you solely responsible for the need for this conversation."

The two men stared at each other. In a staring contest, there can only be one true victor.

"I'm getting a shower," the defeated doctor announced.

Hank made it up one more step before the verbal bombardment started all over again.

"You said it would take like an hour and a half. At the max maybe two. You were gone almost six hours. So, yeah call me pushy but I think I deserve an answer."

Hank managed to conquer two more steps.

Evan moved behind him like a shadow.

"Talk to me, Henry. Please."

The doctor sighed, turned, and took a seat on the cool wood-grained step. He patted a spot on the wooden step and said, "Okay. Let's talk."

Evan, however, remained standing. The sight of two small circular bruises near the crook of his sibling's elbow blew the wind out of him. "You know what? We can talk after your shower," the younger man responded as he glanced down the staircase.

Thoughts of fleeing: a classic Evan move. It would have shocked Hank if his brother had not started formulating an escape plan.

"The X-ray revealed a shadow on my right lung," Hank announced in a calm practiced tone.

"It's probably just a bad case of pneumonia." Evan addressed the framed picture directly above his brother's head. He waited for his brother to agree on his medical assessment, but when he looked in his brother's direction, Evan found that Hank had suddenly developed an interest in his shoelaces. He took a seat on the step. Even though there was plenty of room on the smooth step, Evan sat down almost hip to hip with his brother. "So what's the plan, Henry?" He looked directly at his brother. "Has Dr. Morris put you on an industrial strength kick ass antibiotic?"

Hank smiled at his brother's mishmash use of medical terminology. He felt guilty all over again for having tried to alienate Evan in order to buy himself some time to let the morning's events settle in his brain. His brother had every right to expect to be filled in. He took a moment to formulate a delivery in his head. He then declared, "Dr. Morris prescribed another antibiotic but not an industrial strength one."

"Good." Evan showed his approval with a quick nod. He had been on enough house calls to know that was something Hank would have done if a patient's symptoms had not improved significantly.

Hank, with his hip now firmly pinned up against the staircase wall, looked at Evan and stated that his physician had also ordered an MRI.

Evan swallowed hard. He knew that something unexpected had to have occurred for Hank not to have found time to shoot him off a text. He cleared his throat twice before he managed to inquire, "So, okay, you need an MRI. Dr. Morris likes to cover all the bases. Tell me the day and I'll clear my schedule to take you."

"It's done," Hank answered. He watched as a shadow of uncertainty settled on the younger man's face. "Like you said, Dr. Morris likes to cover all the bases." The doctor hoped he sounded a little more convincing than he felt.

"Okay but that still doesn't explain why you were so late getting back?" Evan had watched Hank administer several MRI's and the longest procedure he ever saw HankMed's top doc perform took no longer than thirty minutes. The procedure was lengthy only because Hank had to stop several times to calm a patient down who felt claustrophobic.

Hank kept his eyes trained on his brother as he spoke. "Dr. Morris pulled some strings and got me in to see one of his colleagues, a Dr. Chaven."

"Why? What was the big rush?" a wary Evan responded. "Who's this Dr. Chaven? I'm not recognizing the name. Where is his practice? What's his specialty?"

Hank lightly touched brother's arm as a signal for the younger man to take a breath and slow down.

"Dr. Chaven is a highly respected pulmonologist," Hank replied in a practiced soothing tone of voice. It was important that he project the idea that there was no reason, despite their family history, for Evan to immediately begin searching for monsters under the bed. The two men sat in shared silence, each finding interest in their clasped hands.

Evan broke the silence.

"Okay. Morris probably sent you to this Chaven guy as a precautionary measure." Evan parroted a phrase he heard Hank patiently explain to several jittery HankMed patients.

It impressed Hank that his brother remained by his side. He thought by now his news, and the possibility it might bring with it, would have freaked out his emotion-driven sibling. The physician was never one to push his luck and decided that he had presented Evan with enough information for one day. In the physician's mind, there was no reason to go over a worst-case scenario. It would be much easier on the two of them if Hank presented information on a need to know basis.

"Well, you know, it's good policy," Hank replied reassuringly. "It's the way I operate too."

"Uh huh." Evan again nodded his head. It did not a rocket scientist to figure out that his brother was doing his "let's keep Evan calm" thing.

"Dr. Chaven wanted to cover all the bases so he ordered a couple more tests." Hank picked a stray hair off his pants. It kept him from making eye contact.

"How many more?" Evan itched his collarbone through his shirt.

"Three," Hank answered truthfully. He swatted his brother's hand. "A PET, a bronchoscope procedure, and a fine needle aspiration." Hank rattled off the names of the procedures as if he were simply ordering the early bird special for breakfast. He was not about to go into the fine details of each test seeing how it appeared that Evan had reached his stay calm threshold.

"We don't have to go into the fine details, Henry." Evan had a somewhat vague idea of the specifics of each test. He could tell by his brother's body language that Hank wanted the conversation to end.

"You're sure?" Hank cautiously replied. The doctor did not want Evan to think that he should be asking for details.

"I just need to know one thing." Evan watched his brother lock his fingers together.

"And that is?"

"Your opinion on this shadow."

Hank answered his brother's request as honestly as he could. "Without test results, Ev, I can only assume that it is nothing more than a water filled cyst."

His brother's answer left Evan confused. "A cyst? Aren't they like something only a woman gets?"

The doctor, not in the happiest frame of mind, was about to set his sometimes-squirrelly sibling straight, until he took a really good look at Evan and realized that he was actually being sincere.

"Cysts are equal opportunity anxiety level risers. They are found in both males and females."

Having spent the last two summers shadowed by Evan on numerous house calls, Hank tended to forget that his brother happened to be a numbers man and not a medical man. He shot Evan a patient smile.

"Henry."

Hank knew exactly where his brother's thoughts had gone: back to the most painful time of their lives. The same place his had gone earlier in the day.

"Evan."

"Do you think if Mom were here today, and she received the same diagnosis, would she have had a better chance for survival? You know, with all the advancements and new treatment options." Evan scratched his right shoulder as he waited for an answer.

Hank was well aware of the hidden question in his brother's inquiry. The doctor constructed a careful response. "In Mom's case yeah, most definitely, because of the advancements made in the last two decades. But you have to keep in mind that responses to treatment vary from patient to patient. There is no norm." Hank watched as a wave of disappointment swept across the younger man's face. It was apparent that he had not given Evan the right answer.

To keep his brother from becoming a walking cluster of hives, Hank tried to get him to focus on the positive. He continued, "But you're right there has been an amazing amount of medical advances the occurred in the past two decades in the areas of research and treatment that now help make…"

"Anything possible," Evan quietly commented. He scratched away at the base of his neck.

Hank took hold of his brother's thin wrist and lifted it away from the cluster of hives that now dotted the younger man's neck.

"Hey," Hank roughly nudged Evan in order to divert his attention. The doctor made a mental note to retrieve a bottle of Benadryl from the bathroom medicine cabinet

"What?" the toppled man replied as he tried to right himself.

"Could you make me one of your throw-everything-into-it omelets? I'm starving." Hank actually could not imagine eating right now but he knew working in the kitchen helped calm Evan. The tired man used his brother's sharp-edged shoulder to help lift him off the step. "I'll be down in ten."

Evan watched as his older brother climbed the remainder of the stairs.

As he made his way down the hallway, Hank concentrated on not hacking so he would not raise his brother's already elevated anxiety level. It took a moment for Hank to realize that there were no sounds of retreating footsteps on the staircase. He sucked in a painful supply of air and yelled back over his shoulder, "Evan! Omelet."

It was not until Hank heard the sound of his brother's retreating footsteps that he once again made his way toward his bedroom.

**A/N:** Thank you again Mrs. N. Reviews welcomed and appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Wednesday morning (6:45 a.m.)

The doctor had gone to bed firmly believing that he had got it through his thick skulled sibling that Evan was not accompanying him to Dr. Chaven's office.

It was not from lack of trying: Evan had debated long and hard.

He had even thrown the name of Dr. Oz at Hank. The doctor, after he rolled his eyes, stood by the kitchen counter and waited to hear how Evan was going to play it out. Hank remembered all-too-well his sibling's Dr. Oz phase. Evan had become convinced that Hank could do a similar kind of TV program. Evan envisioned starting out small with a couple local affiliates and then once the show created buzz – "Dr. Oz watch out." This farfetched idea came to Evan way before the ill-fated Today show interview. Hank still shuddered when he recalled how he literally morphed into a mumbling puddle of sweat under the glare of the cameras. After that debacle – a crushed Evan never mentioned the idea of the "Dr. Hank in the Hamptons" show again.

A dead serious Evan pointed out that Dr. Oz always recommended that when faced with an unknown diagnosis, a patient should take a friend or loved one with them to the consultation to serve as a second set of eyes and ears. Hank made mention that despite what the knowledgeable TV personality/physician suggested, a patient also had the right to face a diagnosis in a one-on-one with their physician. He remained unbending despite having to endure a variety of wounded looks from Evan.

Hank woke to the sound of the water running in the shower.

When Evan announced from the other side of his bedroom door that he would be waiting downstairs with a freshly brewed cup of coffee, Hank threw the cover over his head.

Eventually, a less-than-pleased Hank made his way downstairs. True to his word, Evan had a cup of coffee poured and waiting.

Hank took a couple of sips while he contemplated a way to get through once and for all to his defiant looking sibling that he did not need nor want a tag-a-long buddy. Just as he was about to set Evan straight, the silence in the small kitchen was broken by the ringing of a cell phone. Evan glanced at the name on the screen of his phone and stated that he needed to take the call. The CFO walked out onto the patio talking a mile a minute and gesturing wildly with his one free hand. Hank swiveled his chair to get a better view of his brother's animated conversation. At one point, Hank watched as Evan attempted to strangle the air. The theatrics of his energetic sibling had Hank able, for a minute, to forget how truly worried he was. He moved around the counter for a refill and realized that Evan had his back turned. The doctor briefly contemplated making a break for the front door.

101010101010

Out on the patio, the CFO's discussion with a humorless insurance drone left the exasperated numbers man looking for something to hit. The robot-like individual kept insisting that the code that Evan submitted for payment (a record six times) was incorrect.

After several minutes of playing who could speak the loudest, Evan finally made some headway. Then a miracle occurred! He actually heard the drone finally admit that the error was in fact on her end. He raised a clenched fist in celebration of his David vs. Goliath victory. The win meant that HankMed would finally receive payment for a procedure Hank performed nearly six months ago.

Evan stole a glance back into the guesthouse and was surprised to find that his brother had not taken flight.

As Evan ended the call, a serious looking Hank appeared on the patio and announced in passing, "We have to go."

Not wanting to give the older man too long a lead, Evan hustled after the retreating form. He was sure that just before his phone sprung to life that Hank was in the process of demanding that he stay home. Lost in his thoughts, Evan nearly walked into the back gate. He had wrongly assumed that Hank would have held the narrow door open as he approached. Evan swung the door open and caught up to his suddenly agile sibling.

1010101010

As Hank drove his well-traveled Saab through the intricate front gates of Shadow Pond, it struck him just how much his life could change. It was surreal to think that when he drove back through these very same gates that all his plans for the future could change. Despite vowing never to do so, he had foolishly allowed himself to fall under the misguided assumption that as a doctor he was immune to the same life-changing illnesses that befell his patients. The anxious man white-knuckled the steering wheel of the unmoving Saab. The compact car remained on the lip of the driveway as Hank found that he was unable to make the right hand turn that would take him in the direction of Dr. Chaven's office.

Evan loudly cleared his throat in hopes of breaking his brother's trance-like state.

"Do you want me to drive?" the younger man cautiously suggested.

Hank flipped on the right turn signal. "No it's fine. I've got it." He checked for on coming traffic for a third time. The Saab remained on the lip of the driveway.

"Why am I not surprised?" Evan mumbled.

"What?" Hank zeroed in on the squinting man in the passenger seat.

"I said the sun is in my eyes." Evan took his anxiety out on the sun visor. He roughly swatted it. The lanky man then slumped down in his seat. It was an impractical move seeing how Evan now found that his eyelevel fell well below the visor. To make matters worse, Evan realized that he had left his sunglasses on the kitchen counter. He attempted to look unbothered by the fact that the morning sun was in the process of burning holes into both his retinas.

As Hank drove the Saab past the immaculate landscaped grounds of the massive estate, he gave the brakes a light tap. The quick jerking movement caused Evan's loose shoulder harness to tighten. The doctor smiled wickedly into the rear view mirror. He took notice of a fast-approaching BMW.

Evan, tired of his older brother's antics, wordlessly readjusted his seatbelt. A firm believer in tit-for-tat, he popped the glove box open, plucked out his brother's extra pair of sunglasses and plopped them on his face. Evan checked his look in the passenger mirror and smiled at his reflection. He could feel the glare from his brother on the side of his face. It made him smile even more.

By the accountant's calculations, the ride to Dr. Chaven's office would eventually wind up taking them an extra fifteen to twenty minutes at his procrastinating brother's current rate of driving speed. Evan wanted to point out to his determined looking sibling that the posted speed lime was 45 not 35. However, he bit his tongue and thanked the traffic gods that on this particular Saturday morning traffic happened to be unusually light.

A sleek black BMW zipped around the slow moving Saab. The bald-headed driver shared with Hank the universal one-fingered salute bestowed on all slow drivers, hit the gas, and sped past. A mortified Evan scrunched down in his seat.

"That was embarrassing!" a still crouching Evan grossed.

"I think that was Councilman Samuels." Hank tried to keep tract of the BMW as the convertible proceeded to out pace the doctor's Saab. Interest piqued, Evan popped up and searched ahead for the BMW. Hank pointed toward the rapidly moving sports car. "However, that flowing blonde hair definitely does not belong to Emma Samuels."

The BMW and its mystery occupant disappeared after the driver hit the Farmingville exit ramp at a questionable speed.

"I think this is a good time for me to point out that right after your exceptional bedside manner, it is our vow of complete discretion that continues to keep us in the black," Evan cautiously explained.

Hank groaned at his younger brother's words. Try as he might the dedicated doctor had yet to make peace with that part of their companies corporate code of conduct (an Evan generated euphemism). "Mrs. Samuels was responsible for a major part of the funding of the clinic and happens to be a very…"

"Ah ah," Evan wagged a long finger in his brother's direction. "Discretion keeps HankMed in the black, Henry."

"Emma Samuels is one of the sweetest…"

"For all we know sweet Emma could be a raving lunatic behind closed doors," Evan exclaimed. He was not trying to be sarcastic but the look zinged his way suggested Hank thought otherwise. He answered with a shrug of his narrow shoulders. Based on a lot of eye opening by Paige, Evan had come to understand that the image the Hampton's elite displayed on one side of the front door often varied wildly on the other side of that same front door.

"Discretion, Henry," the persistent CFO reiterated. "HankMed patches up their boo boo's, not their relationships." To provide his brother with a visual aid, Evan pulled a business card from the ample supply in his shirt pocket, something in which he never leaves home without.

"Total Discretion – see?" He leaned closer to his brother. "It's printed on all our business card." He emphasized his point by giving the card a couple good taps.

"That was your idea – not mine," the doctor grumbled. He took a hard left and sent his card carrying brother sliding across his seat.

To Evan, the biting comment was just another example of his brother's total lack of business expertise. The wide-turn, on the other hand, was Hank's way of letting him know that he was finished discussing the matter. Evan wisely kept his mouth shut and his business cards tucked safely away for the remainder of the ride.

101010101010

Twenty-five minutes later, Hank pulled into the medical complex where Dr. Chaven's office was located. He drove at a snail's crawl as he searched for a parking spot. Evan tried to be helpful and pointed out three empty parking spots but found his suggestion ignored. Instead, Hank made a left turn at the end of the row that required him to circle the entire medical complex again. He eventually settled for a parking spot that just so happened to be the spot farthest away from the doctors' office.

As if to remind them both why they had to be there in the first place, Hank broke into a loud rumbling cough as he attempted to remove his car key from the ignition.

The jarring sound unnerved Evan so much that he completely forgot about the supply of cough drops that he had stashed in his pockets while making coffee.

Hank, coughing into the crook of his arm, pointed to the glove box. Evan popped it open, grabbed a small bottle of warm water, cracked open the lid, and handed it to his scarlet hued sibling.

Without hesitation, Hank drained the small plastic bottle. Just as Hank's coughing subsided, Evan presented his fist.

'Here." The apologetic looking younger man handed over a couple cough drops. "Sorry. I forgot I had them." Evan dropped the items in his brother's hand.

"Thanks, Ev." Hank shoved the cough drops into his shirt pocket and then gave his sheepish looking brother a grateful smile.

"Not a big deal," the flustered younger man exclaimed. Evan felt like a total idiot. Here he had shoved the damn cough drops in his pocket just in case Hank might need them and then went and missed his cue.

"You know, Ev, it came to me last night whose fault this is," a stalling Hank announced. He waited until he had his brother's full attention. "Betsy Johnson."

"The designer?" Evan had Paige to thank for his newly acquired knowledge of fashion and its designers.

"What?" Hank in the process of taking off his sunglasses looked over at his sibling. "No. Betsy Johnson with the…" He tried to think of a word that would spark a memory for his brother.

"Huge top heavy rack?" Evan helpfully volunteered. He grinned as the sound of his brother's snort of laughter. Hey, the younger man theorized, if I have to be a sexist jerk to get my brother to laugh, then so be it.

"No," the doctor slowly drew out the word. "She's our client with the double set of twins."

"Right." Evan snapped his fingers. "That was my second guess," he quipped.

"Yeah I'm sure it was," the older man answered with a smile. Hank knew exactly what his brother was trying to accomplish. Despite his earlier protests, he was now glad that his brother had not listened to his request to stay home. "I treated the oldest set a week ago. Remember I told you about how they were both dispensing an ample supply of yellow/green phlegm?" Hank grinned as he remembered the look on his sibling's face. The same disgusted look swept across Evan's face.

"You know what, Henry? That was a disgusting description the first time around. Thanks for the image. Again!" Evan complained. There was a perfectly good reason why Evan never followed his brother into the medical field. He hated slimy things, could not deal with the idea of wiggling germs, despised funky smells, and above all, could not tolerate the sight or sound of anything a sick body might expel.

"You're welcome, Evan," the amused doctor replied. Hank seriously had no idea how his highly squeamish and, in his opinion, slightly neurotic sibling planned on living through the collective mess that would be his (and Paige's) future child.

The idea of his younger brother married and a father light years before him - coupled with Jill breaking things off and leaving for Africa - had thrown Hank for a loop. He uncharacteristically hopped from relationship to relationship in a vain attempt to "find" what Evan had found with Paige. The only positive thing to come out of those fast relationships was that the doctor discovered that the only thing keeping him from finding real love was - fear of being burned again.

Evan stole a quick glance at his watch. "So…um…you know how you like it when your patients arrive on time?"

"Right. I guess we should go get this over with." Hank summoned up his last reassuring smile in his arsenal. Evan answered with one of his own. However, neither man went for a door handle.

They sat unmoving, staring out the windshield until Evan broke the silence.

"Hank."

"Yeah."

"There's a small grandmotherly type woman, standing in the middle of the parking lot and she's waving in our direction," Evan pointed.

Hank peered in the same direction as his brother and took note of a small figure. The woman in question happened to be Dr. Chaven's office receptionist. The very woman that helped Hank feel at ease yesterday. The woman held onto a white pastry box as she continued to wave.

Hank returned her wave but remained seated.

'Evan, look, before we go in I need you to promise me that-"

"Henry," Evan interrupted, a solemn timbre in his voice, "nothing this Dr. Chaven might tell you this morning would make me run for the hills." The younger man stated as a matter-of-fact.

"No. I know that. I want you to promise that if this turns out to be…bad news…you will not put your wedding on hold." Hank looked earnestly at his brother.

"Paige and I are not getting married without you by my side. Period. End of discussion," Evan hotly declared. He did not want to have this conversation. "I need you as my best man to keep me sane and, most importantly, keep me planted in front of the priest and/or rabbi, justice of the peace or whomever it is that we finally decide on to marry us."

Normally, a look of concern on his brother's face meant lecture time for Evan. However, at that moment, it was a welcome sight because it meant that he had managed to hijack Hank's thoughts and steer them in a completely different direction.

"Ev, hey look, getting married is a big step. It's okay for you to feel…"

"Scared and overwhelmed," Evan replied with a tinge of drama for effect. "It's like what started out as a small wave - asking Paige to marry me - has turned into this massive tsunami." Once the words left his mouth, Evan forgot all about acting all conflicted and opened up the floodgates to some very real pent up emotions. "It's starting to feel like a game of social one-up-manship." He noted the confused look on the older man's face. "The wedding plans, Henry! It went from something simple and romantic to resembling something out of a three ring circus.' Evan paused to catch a much-needed breath.

"It can't be-"

"My In-laws to be would prefer that we have the reception at The Four Seasons." Evan grabbed a hold of his brother's arm. "Can you see our relatives at the Four Seasons?"

"Well no," Hank responded honestly. "I thought Paige agreed to a small private family and friend's reception on the grounds of the Collin's family home?"

"Well that was the plan up until a week ago," the exasperated sounding Evan replied. "Then The General went all Bridezella on us. Then I find out that Mrs. Collins is trying to sell Paige on a two-week African safari honeymoon. AN AFRICAN SAFARI" the honestly freaked out Evan exclaimed. "Henry you know me better than anyone. How am I going to deal with dirty dust, humongous bugs, and freaking wild animals?"

Hank wanted to laugh except Evan was dead serious. He took his brother camping once and Evan panicked when a harmless spider ventured into their tent.

"There's no way I'm letting the Collins take over. It's not going to happen." Evan suddenly realized that he had made the last few minutes about his fears and covered his mouth with his hand.

"Ev, its okay." The older man knew exactly where his brother's thoughts had gone. "Listen. Paige is not going to let her father take over the wedding." Hank tried to sound convincing. He was about to depart more words of wisdom when he caught a glimpse of the time. "Hey, we have to get moving. We can discuss this some more on our way in."

"No, it's okay. You're right. It'll be fine," the guilt riddled Evan answered. Let's just go in and see what's what. That's why we're here."

"Sure. We'll just go in and see what's what." The older man's hand hovered over the lock release button. "Evan."

"Yeah"

"I'm glad you're here with me for the what's what," Hank confessed.

"Any time Henry."

"So…"

"Whenever you're ready."

"Let's go." Hank hit the button that unlocked the car doors.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

Dr. Henry Lawson hated waiting.

Exactly fifteen minutes ago, a bright-eyed staff member by the name of Brianna, had gestured to two high backed chairs in front of Dr. Chaven's impressive designer desk. The woman suggested that Hank and Evan make themselves comfortable. She then issued the standard line that generated groans from patient's everywhere - "the doctor will be in to see you shortly." Brianna smiled sympathetically and quietly left the room.

For as long as Evan could remember, his older brother strived to be prompt and on time. The guy was just _never_ late! He knew that Dr. Chaven being way off schedule was only making his anxious brother even more so. To help divert Hank's attention Evan offered the annoyed man the use of his cell phone. Thinking that if he managed to get Hank interested in a round of "Angry Birds" it would stop him from fixating on the time.

Hank rejected the offer.

Instead, he continued to keep track of each passing minute. Evan, for his part, pretended to be utterly interested on the assortment of birds and pigs zipping around on the screen of his cell phone.

When another ten minutes slid by, Brianna bravely opened the office door, stuck her head in, and offered to grab some coffee or a donuts for the two hot (definitely hot) and _really_ bothered men.

Hank declined the offer.

Evan also turned down the offer.

Striking out on both accounts, Brianna forced a smile and closed the office door.

The fact that his confectionary-loving sibling passed up his favorite artery clogging pastry left Hank a little taken back. He waited for an explanation.

"Just not feeling the Krispy anymore," the younger man volunteered as he continued to rack up some impressive points.

Hank smiled. Evan, his slightly off kilter brother, _always_ looked on the bright side of things. His brother, Hank finally realized, had his own unique sense of self. When dark thoughts gathered, Hank always sought out the company of his brother. While he never used Evan as a sounding board, just being around him helped lighten his mood. Once Evan married Paige, Hank sadly accepted the fact that those calming moments with his brother would end.

A fit of laughter from the other side of an adjoining wall caught both Hank and Evan's attention.

"Sounds like Jack just wrapped up his USO Playboy bunny wardrobe malfunction story," Evan wryly commented.

1010101010101010

Earlier in the waiting area, an elderly patient, Jack Harrison, goaded Evan into a heated debate on whether or not an incredible catch by an outfielder (as shown on an ESPN highlight reel) earned the title of "the catch of the decade." The animated debate would have continued to rage on had Hank not declared the elderly man the winner. The doctor theorized that due to the fact that Jack had several decades on Evan, the man had to have seen his fair share of extraordinary baseball plays. Evan must have come to the same conclusion seeing how he conceded defeat without his usual demand for a recount.

After the debate, Jack shared several awe-inspiring stories about his rather dicey days as an artilleryman during WWII. Jack proved to be a straight shooting "no guts no glory" kind of guy. The vivid stories he weaved held Hank and Evan's attention up until the moment a staff member called the elderly man's name. Hank offered a hand to the elderly man as he struggled out of his chair. Jack, however, waved off the assist. Before the elderly man walked away, Evan quickly handed Jack his business card and wondered if they could meet up sometime for lunch. The request brought a warm smile to the old war hero's lined face and a promise to keep in touch.

10101010101010

The sound of the office door opening brought Hank back to real time.

Evan felt the cold air touch the back of his neck and fought the urge to flinch.

After a quick greeting, the casually attired Dr. Chaven lowered his long-limbed body into his dark leather desk chair, placed a folder directly in front, and then leafed through several papers.

Evan took a hard look at the doctor seated in front of him. He could not fathom how this boyish looking man could be the renown physician Hank described. He looked at his brother and mouthed the words: "Are you kidding me?"

Hank answered with a warning expression. One that read: Do not say a word.

The sound of the doctor moving his chair back forced Hank and Evan to put an end to their silent war of words.

Dr. Chaven did not miss a single moment of the unspoken exchange. He had long ago perfected the skill of patient observations while seemingly deep into a file or chart. He knew exactly what concerned the younger man. By the time he reached the ripe-old-age of thirty-three, Dr. Rueben Chaven had developed an understanding and mastery of his craft that very few doctors nearly twice his age could claim.

"Dr. Lawson, I'm very sorry about the overlapping of your appointment. I have an elderly man under my care who recently lost his wife. Sometimes, he just needs a little extra attention." The physician zeroed in on Hank. "I am sure that you understand how giving an individual a few minutes of your time can in the long run be more beneficial for a patient's well-being than any medication we might prescribe.

Evan noted that Dr. Chaven's patient outlook appeared to be on par with that of HankMed's motto - patient care over profits. He settled back in his chair.

Hank was relieved to see that his brother had finally stopped suspiciously eyeballing Dr. Chaven. He no longer felt that he had to be on guard against Evan's well intentioned but overzealous stance.

Hank had convinced himself that bringing Evan along had made sense. However, now seated in the room with the two younger men Hank had begun to feel like some doddering old man. He silently lambasted his decision not to make a run for the door and leave the guesthouse without Evan.

Evan patiently waited for Hank to make an introduction. However, after several seconds passed without his brother even looking in his direction, Evan took matters into his own hands. He was about to reach out a hand when Hank regained his ability to speak.

"Dr. Chaven I'd like to introduce you to my brother Evan," Hank stated. "He elected to be my-"

"Second set of ears," the dark haired physician finished for Hank. "I am happy to see that you took my advice Dr. Lawson." Dr. Chaven shook the offered hand of the younger version of his patient.

When Evan did not react to the pulmonotologist's announcement Hank knew that he would hear all about his earlier gripping from Evan at some point. He tried not to notice his brother's burning gaze.

Dr. Chaven observed the silent communication between the two men.

"I realize that it has been an easy wait for you Dr. Lawson. I have reviewed all the tests and viewed your scans."

Hank moved to the edge of his chair. Dr. Chaven had his full attention.

Faced with another moment that could potentially blow his world apart, Evan, sunk further back into his chair. He closed his eyes. The promise he made to Hank to be super attentive flew out the window. All Evan heard was the sound of his heart beating, and wondered if Hank or Dr. Chaven could hear it too. _Oh man_, he pleaded to his inner self, _do not pass out!_

The warmth of his brother's touch had an instant calming effect on Evan. He forced his eyes to open.

Evan felt like a complete idiot. He had screwed this moment up so badly. The idea that Hank would ever feel the need to take him in his confidences, Evan believed, had come and gone.

Plus he had unintentionally turned the focus of an important moment in Hank's life onto himself. Evan could not look in his brother's direction.

He stared at a framed diploma behind Dr. Chaven's head. Evan wished with every fiber in his being that he had listened to Hank and stayed the hell home. By insisting on coming all Evan had managed to do was once again disappoint his brother.

Evan was so busy berating himself that he failed to notice the fact that Hank was speaking.

"Evan, look at me," a shaken Hank implored.

TBC

A/N: Thank you Mrs. N. Also a big thank you to those who left reviews. Also, to all my fellow East Coasters - stay dry and safe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Evan?" Hank repeated his brother's name. The second time around he managed to capture the troubled looking man's attention. In a strong calm voice he announced, "I'm going to be okay."

"You're going to be okay?" Evan repeated the older man's words as if he was not quite sure of their authenticity. He searched Hank's face for visual confirmation. When a smile began to spread across his brother's face, Evan blinked back tears.

A long time ago, out of necessity, Hank erected a wall around his emotions. To this day he continues to guard them. Hank swallowed hard. The only person he ever really allowed to see a glimpse of his real emotions was seated next to him and fighting to keep his own emotions in check. Aware of Dr. Chaven's interest, Hank turned his focus away from his brother to keep the wall from crumbling.

While the two physicians talked shop, Evan took stock. The relieved expression that had flooded his brother's face now made Evan even more determined to prove to Hank that nothing would ever stop them from staying in contact. Nothing that life had in store from them would sever their relationship (not career changes, marriages, or miles). He wanted his brother to understand that even though he would be married and not underfoot in the guesthouse, there would still be plenty of Lawson brotherly moments to share.

To achieve this end, Evan had carefully constructed two plans. Plan A would have gone into affect immediately if Dr. Chaven had crushed Hank's dreams. Thankful that his brother had received a less traumatic diagnosis, Evan could now happily put Plan B into operation. He rejoiced in the knowledge that his second plan had a much longer shelve life.

To start the ball rolling, Evan planned to prepare an amazing celebratory dinner that would feature every conceivable food item Hank loved. Then after the wedding, he would make sure that his culinary challenged sibling's refrigerator stayed stocked with ample supplies of comfort food. Lastly, and most importantly, Evan planned with Paige's blessings to let Hank know that wherever he called home, there would be a "Hank" room. The room of refuge would be available to Hank 24/7. Evan had to concede to Paige's desire to furnish the room as she saw fit.

In the midst of his daydream about his future abode, Evan heard Hank inquire about recovery time. Evan knew that what Hank really wanted to know was when he could go back to work. He took an immediate interest in Dr. Chaven's response.

"Dr. Lawson I'm sure that you are aware that Bronchiolitis Obliterans Organizing Pneumonia is a rare inflammatory lung condition. It has affected your small airways and surrounding lung tissue. B.O.O.P. is not something you can take a pill for at bedtime and go to work the next day." Dr. Chaven could tell this news did not set well with his patient. "You should consider yourself extremely lucky that this is a slow build up of fibrous granulation tissue considering all the procrastinating that went on according to Dr. Morris' notes."

Evan felt an obligation to stick up for his older brother. He threw caution to the wind in regards to how Hank might react, and offered up his unsolicited opinion on Dr. Chaven's foot dragging comment. "The only reason Hank delayed seeking a second opinion sooner was because he got spooked. The symptoms he experienced mirrored the ones that our deceased mother exhibited and even though he sports a stethoscope around his neck, that doesn't give him super powers…he's human…he made a mistake."

Evan turned to face the wrath of his sibling but was surprised when Hank gave him a barely detectable nod of appreciation.

The fact that Hank allowed fear to color his judgment did not sit well with his physician. Rueben Chaven lived in a world that consisted of good or bad choices. He had little sympathy for any patient who played the asinine game of "let's pretend this is not happening." This way of thinking helped him deal with the patient who despite a life-changing diagnosis continued to stick one cigarette after another into his or her mouth.

The pulmontologist understood from the older man's body language that he needed to lay down the law. He was sure that Hank expected to be involved in his own treatment.

"It's imperative, Hank, that you start long-term therapy today. You need to make up for the lost time."

Evan felt as if Dr. Chaven had come down a little hard on Hank. He was not alone in his assessment as he instantly felt a wave of dissatisfaction roll off his brother. Evan waited for a snappy comeback but nothing happened. Confused, he shot a furtive glance at his still smoldering sibling. When Hank clinched his jaw but remained silent, Evan concluded that his brother's silence hinged on some unwritten code of respect between doctors kind of thing.

Dr. Chaven also felt the older man's annoyance. He was not the least bit intimidated. This was not the first time he ever had to lock horns with a disenchanted patient. Rueben leaned back in his chair. He looked directly at Hank and coolly stated, "I noticed in your file that Dr. Morris stated that you did not seek treatment until symptoms were present for two weeks. It goes without saying, Dr. Lawson, that you could have started a low level antibiotic regiment long before you sought out a second opinion."

It took Evan about a nanosecond to process this newly presented information. It took all his limited amount of self-control to keep from springing out of his chair.

"Wait. What?" the disbelieving younger man sputtered. Evan turned on his trapped looking sibling. "You told me you were taking an antibiotic."

Dr. Chaven felt an obligation to help a fellow physician. He attempted to snuff out the sparks of anger the youngest Lawson emitted with what he thought a timely tidbit of information. "In the Nov. 27 issue of the medical journal Archives of Internal Medicine, it was reported that a surprising number of physicians – approximately one in three - had no regular source of care, even though they had ready access and were better educated and could more easily afford it than the average American."

Evan took his eyes off his sibling long enough to give the pulmontologist a look of total disinterest.

"It's true," Dr. Chaven volunteered.

"I don't need a magazine article to tell me that doctors are total dumbasses when it comes to their own health issues. I live with the one in three," Evan sarcastically replied.

Hank reached his limit of character assignation. "I thought I could just tough it out," he protested. He thought about reminding his verbal ninja of a kid brother that it was only moments ago that Evan reminded Dr. Chaven that it was okay for doctors to be human. Then he noted the anger still present in his brother's eyes and quieted those thoughts.

Hank felt the beginning of a coughing spasm and managed to squash it just by shear will power. Hank had no doubts that his brother would think nothing of pelting him with the remaining cough drops Evan had in his possession.

"Of course you did," a brutally honest Evan replied. He turned his attention back to Dr. Chaven.

"Hank, you will start on a steroid therapy that is to be continued for the next three months," the pulmonotologist explained to his patient.

"I'll check my…" the older doctor started to explain.

"You will begin Perisodone today," Dr. Chaven interrupted. He needed to make sure Hank understood that he had no other option but to follow a set therapy plan. "And this regiment continues until I decide if there are to be any dosage changes to be made."

Hank started to open his mouth. In a scene resembling a bad soap opera both Dr. Chaven and Evan focused all their attention on Hank at exactly the same time. Left without an ally, Hank reluctantly agreed to Dr. Chaven's terms.

Evan purposely directed a medical question to Dr. Chaven. It was a move done to annoy the hell out of his brother.

"So this BOOP thing is almost like having a case of "double double" pneumonia?"

"You could look at it that way," Hank jumped in to offer an unsolicited explanation.

Evan continued his conversation with Dr. Chaven as if he had not heard his brother. "So how can I tell if this antibiotic is not doing what it's supposed to do? What should I be looking for?"

Hank tuned Evan out.

He already knew what predictable move his brother's would do next. Granted, he made a regrettable decision and opted not to be upfront with Evan. In Evan's world, it was now payback time. His brother would continue to funnel all his questions to Dr. Chaven in hopes of annoying Hank. The ailing doctor's patience level was close to empty what with being bossed around by Dr. Chaven and sitting through another one of Evan's "I'm wounded" routines. He wanted to pull Evan out into the hallway and tell him Okay, I get it. You're pissed. But like you said - I'm human. I screwed up. Get over it.

Hank bent the truth and he got caught. Whereas Evan used to make bending the truth an art form. The old pre-Hampton Evan lived in a mixture of truths, half-truths, and elegantly created elaborations. To this day, Evan has yet to give Hank a straight answer when questioned about why it was so easy for him to up and leave his "dream" job at Hudson and Langdon, a premier accounting firm, without so much as a backward glance. The longer Hank thought about his brother's double standard, the more steamed he became.

_Who was Evan to point fingers_? an annoyed Hank pondered. _What was that saying? Something about people who lived in glass houses..._

"Hank!" Dr. Chaven loudly repeated his patient's name.

Hank broke out of his revere. He raised his head and looked at the questioning figure behind the desk.

"Your brother wanted to know what signs indicate that your treatment is not working."

"Yes I know. I heard him, " Hank answered without looking at the man seated to his right. Two could play the old "I'm hurt and ignoring you" game.

"I told Evan that, while you are behind the eight ball, I feel that the chances of the Bronchiolitis Pneumonia regrouping and gaining strength while you are on strict Perisodone regiment is minimal at best. Do you agree?"

Hank nodded. It was just his luck that he took a quick glance in Evan's direction just as his brother decided to do the same.

The two disgruntled men turned their attention back to Dr. Chaven at precisely the same moment.

Dr. Chaven took note that each man bore the same put upon expression. Rueben Chaven felt more like a family therapist than a highly skilled pulomontologist. He addressed his patient.

"I also told your brother that by utilizing a conventional Corticosteroid treatment we are looking at an 85% chance for a full recovery."

Hank murmured his agreement.

Evan shifted his body weight and leaned ever so slightly in his brother's direction.

Hank caught the movement and theorized that iceberg Evan appeared to be melting.

"So even with the steroid therapy there's still a chance of it not working the way it should," a cautious Evan addressed his question not to Dr. Chaven but rather to Hank.

"The truth is that there is a very small chance that even while on this steroid that my symptoms could worsen." This time around, Hank went for full disclosure

"I guess then my next question would be if you thought the therapy was not working, would you even bother to tell me?"

Dr. Chaven found himself caught up in the brotherly drama. He looked from Evan to Hank as he waited for his patient's answer.

"I would," Hank replied. He took his chance for redemption and ran with it. "I definitely would, Ev."

Dr. Chaven relieved that a peace accord was finally reached between the brothers, steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Now that we are all on the same page, I think we should begin discussing the specifics of my treatment plan." He then flipped a page in Hank's file.

For the next several minutes, Dr. Chaven spoke about things that he knew his patient as a physician would truly comprehend. The discussion covered everything from unilateral patchy alveolar airspace consolidation, air bronchogram, pleural and bronchial wall thickening, HRCT findings, small nodular opacities, the value of gadolinium-enhanced MRI, honeycombing and irregular reticular patterns and the role of chest radiography in achieving a diagnosis of B.O.O.P. The discussion was a notch or two above what Evan could easily comprehend.

Evan wound up feeling like a spectator at the U.S. Open. He looked from Dr. Chaven to Hank and then back again: every once in a while Hank stopped the conversation to clarify a point.

When the two doctors finally discussed the treatment plan, Evan was familiar enough with the terminology to find his way around the conversation. Hank explained that Dr. Chaven intended to place him on a strict corticosteroid treatment plan for the next 3 months. Dr. Chaven took over and discussed how Hank would have to take the steriod for at least a year and that the dosage would be systematically lowered.

When the consultation came to its conclusion, Hank went off with Dr. Chaven to receive his first dose of Perdisone. A satisified Evan made his way back to the waiting area after helping himself to a coffee and Krispy Kreme.

Evan settled into a waiting room chair, sipped his coffee, snacked on a donut and sent a text to Paige. In the text he sent, Evan described how it felt to hear that Dr. Chaven suggested to Hank bring a second set of ears, and how his brother lied to him about starting on an antibiotic. Evan smiled at his return message.

I love you!

And I you! (Evan smirked at his own wittiness)

But the truth is u do tend to over dramatize.

Give me 1 example!

Okay. The time we went sailing and the wind died.

I'll give u that point.

Cozumel - u thought our snorkeling instructor was a drug courier.

Why did he keep looking at the horizon? Pirates? I don't think so.

Evan!

Paige!

U love Hank. Cut him a break. Make him an amazing dinner.

I"ll think about it.

Evan

I'm thinking.

Make nice. After your dinner I promise to make u forget all about today.

Paige

What?

I love you.

And I you!

A smitten Evan put his phone away, drained the coffee, and devoured what remained of his jelly donut. He was halfway to a trashcan when Hank appeared like some silent deadly ninja. Evan pretended not to have been spooked.

"Hey," a tentative Hank offered by the way of a greeting.

"Hey," Evan parroted back. He went for a 3-pointer with his cup and napkin. "You done?"

"For now." Hank walked over and picked up the Styrofoam cup that overshot the receptacle.

Evan opened his mouth to protest but then gave up. It dawned on him as he watched his older brother dispose of the cup that at this late stage of the game it was all but ingrained in Hank's core being to make things run smoothly for Evan. The younger man had a vision of two much older men walking in a park and one stopping to perform the same exact task Hank had just completed. The sound of Hank's voice brought Evan out of his future vision.

"Evan, look, about-"

Evan held out a hand to halt his brother's speech. "It's okay. I get it."

The relieved older man started to smile.

"I said I got it. I didn't say I liked it," Evan warned.

"I'll keep working on it," Hank promised.

"I've heard that one before." Evan swung the office door open. He held out his hand. "Keys."

"Why?" Hank protested. "There is no medical reason why I can't drive."

"I have a celebratory dinner to prepare and I'm not spending another 45 minutes schlepping down the road at 35 mph." Evan wiggled his fingers for emphasis. "Keys."

Hank fished out his key ring and dropped them into Evan's waiting hand. He could not help a smile from forming on his face as he followed his brother down the medical complex's walkway.

Evan stopped abruptly.

Hank stopped short.

"Just so we're on the same page, I'm letting you know now that I'm going with top of the line ingredients and you my friend," Evan threw an arm around his brother's shoulder, "are footing the bill."

Evan, as he walked with arms gesturing, proceeded to list all the ingredients needed for his celebratory meal.

Hank smiled all the way back to the car.

A/N: Thank you Mrs. N for all your beta help.

Reviews welcome.

.


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